Summary: They shared a bond stronger than friendship. Stronger than romance and love. It was a partnership of the souls and now that one piece is missing, the other is left to question his sanity and the validity of life without her. BB but completely non-trad. For all you angst addicts and anyone else who's strong enough to take it.

A/N:Thanks for giving this a shot, hope you stick around.

Prologue

"When I'm chasing a suspect, I don't need to be worrying about you and where you are and if you're safe.." Booth nearly shouted, hands on his hips as he paced the far side of Brennan's office.

"Then don't! How many times do I have to tell you I can take care of myself Booth? Do you want me to tell you in Latin? Ego validus tutela meus." Her cheeks flushed as she slammed a file down onto her desk. Obviously pretending she was busy wasn't going to get rid of him this time.

"I know that Bones, I know better than anyone how well you can take care of yourself, but I don't have the luxury of just leaving you to your own devices. When we're outside this lab, you're my partner, but you're also my friend and my charge." He pointed one long finger at her in a gesture meant to make a point, but only made her more defensive.

Her mouth dropped. "You're charge?!" She couldn't decide which of his body parts she wanted to kick most and folded her arms to prevent herself from launching one of the many heavy artifacts surrounding her desk in his general, pig-headed direction.

Outside Zach, Hodgins, Angela and Cam exchanged raised-eyebrow glances over lab equipment, taking bets on which of the partners was going to come out of this one alive.

Booth rubbed his face, growing more exasperated and frustrated by the moment. Keeping his temper in check was a lost cause at this point. It usually was when he dealt with his stubborn, arrogant, over-eager partner. "Yes, my charge. My responsibility and it's my job to worry about whether or not you've tripped in these ridiculous heels or if you're being mauled by a bear or if you've turned that cannon around and are firing it at things, including yourself or me. So if a suspect takes off I need you to stay behind where it's safe and where you can apprehend them if they come back or call for backup if we need it."

"If I were your FBI agent partner would you make me stay behind?" She jutted out her chin, defiantly challenging him to answer, since there was really no good way to answer that question, which she knew perfectly well.

"You're not FBI, Temperance, you're a scientist. A brilliant, amazing, one-of-a-kind forensic anthropologist, not a trained government approved agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Does that answer your question?" He saw disbelief and anger vying for dominance on her face and made a conscious effort to stop yelling. "I'm not making you do anything. I've known you long enough to recognize no one can make you do anything you don't want to." He continued, feeling a bit calmer as she sat huffily in her chair, signaling the argument was winding down. Hopefully, he was winning. "So I'm asking, for both our sakes, that you not take off down dark alleys or into thick woods after me when I'm pursing a suspect."

She cast her eyes downward and he could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Weighing the pros and cons of the situation. He moved slowly across the office, frowning as he asked quietly, "Bones?"

"Rat bastard." She accused softly, shaking her head.

Booth looked at the ceiling and sighed. Rubbing his hands across his face once more, he sat down in the chair across her desk and leaned forward. "Promise me, Temperance."

After a long, pregnant pause, during which he wondered if she had decided to take a vow of silence or if she was simply refusing to answer unless he changed the question, she did finally look up. With a look in her eye that made him a bit uneasy, she straightened in her chair and muttered her reply.

"I promise."

This is only the first chap, it sets up the rest so as long as somebody wants it, I think I'm up for posting s'more.